The Five Crossroads Jobs
by DinerGuy
Summary: The two times Lance Hunter met Leverage team members and lived to tell about it and the three times he almost didn't
1. The First Museum Job

_A/N: All characters within belong to their respective creators (except for the random original characters that I invented). No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from anything you read here._

 _Written for domina_tempore and betaed_ _by the awesome DQ!_

 _Okay, I'm going to just get it out here before you read this. I know absolutely nothing in regards to insurance investigations. There is an incredibly high likelihood that this story is preposterous in terms of real life. But it's a short little fic and I didn't feel like doing research to make sure all 1,500 or so words were factually correct. Basically, I'm taking artistic license and playing hard and fast with any and all rules. Just go with it and enjoy (and please don't kill me for any discrepancies). 0:)_

* * *

 **The time Lance Hunter learned to properly vet his clients**

* * *

 _There were a number of things that had been in Lance Hunter's plan for the day, although to be honest, he never really planned out his days ahead of time. He was more of a roll-with-the-punches type of guy; life was more exciting that way. Sure, he worked out some of the big stuff ahead of time, like work or meetings for work, but the in-between details? Not really relevant until they happened; things changed a lot in the course of a day anyway. But, if he had made a plan for today, it would definitely not have taken the turn that it did._

 _The day had started out like any other where he had a job lined up. Work as a freelancer was sometimes sporadic, so he was grateful to have a gig, even if it was just a bodyguard thing. He was good at hitting people and shooting guns, so it should have gone without a hitch. He had reported for duty at a museum, where he had been told his job was to provide security for the moving of an exhibit that was going on to another town._

 _That was cool; he could do that. Just watch for any bad guys and make sure that the sealed crates made it safely to the airport. There was apparently another security team coming in on the transport plane._

 _It had been dark and quiet when they arrived at the museum, which Hunter's employer had stated was because it was easiest to move shipments when the parking lot wasn't packed full of patrons' vehicles, and the men working to load up the truck had been able to do so without a hitch. Hunter had kept watch for any signs of trouble, but there had been none. The packing of the truck had gone quickly and smoothly, with the back door of the trailer soon pulled shut and locked. Their employer would follow in a car behind them to supervise, and they would be going directly to the airport._

 _Hunter had been feeling good about the success of the job as he climbed into the cab of the truck next to the driver. There was just a fifteen minute drive to the airport ahead of them, and once he had signed off his duties to the guys waiting at the plane, that would be it. It would have been the easiest paycheck he had made in a while. But no sooner had they pulled out of the museum parking lot than they were stopped by bright lights and ordered out of the truck. There were handcuffs and rights were read, and then Hunter, the driver, and the occupants of the car behind them were carted away in unmarked police cars…_

Just then, the door clicked open, and Hunter was pulled out of his thoughts as a man entered. Hunter looked up. This was not the same man who had been questioning him for most of the night. That man - Nathan Ford, as he had introduced himself - had gone to get a coffee and still had not returned. Instead, Hunter was getting this newcomer, who was shorter and a little stockier than Ford.

"Hello, Mr. Hunter," the man greeted. Hunter noted the man's accent, which was much closer to his own than Ford's American accent had been. "I'm James Sterling; I work with Nate."

"Uh-huh." Hunter was not impressed, and he made sure his facial expression conveyed this. "Can't say as I'm pleased to meet you."

Sterling snorted a small chuckle and strolled over to the table. He remained standing, however, and folded his arms. "So," Sterling began, looking down at Hunter across the table, "let's go over this again, shall we?"

Hunter groaned inwardly and leveled a very unamused look at Sterling in return. "Is this interrogation going to end soon? I have things I need to do, you know."

"It'll be done when I say it's done," was the reply.

"Okay then." Hunter yawned and shrugged. "Whatever you say, mate. I don't suppose you'll let me take any kind of break though, will you? I saw a little boys' room when we came in and I really could use it right now, if you know what I mean." He shifted in his seat for emphasis, putting on the most pained look he could manage.

Sterling ignored the question. "Why don't you tell me why you were at that museum?"

"Really? I'm sure you were listening in on my conversation with your friend for the past hour or whatever it was. Did you forget already?" Hunter asked sarcastically. He had been in this tiny room for hours, and he had been seated for most of those hours. His back side had moved from complaining to demanding and then had simply gone numb. It was yet another reason he was not at all pleased with his current situation. "It's not like it's that hard to remember. I. Was. Working. Now can I go or not? You people arrested me - wrongly, I might add - and you've interrogated me, and it's all been quite fun, but I really need to be going. Things to do, people to see; you know the drill."

"Working…" The other man nodded slowly. "Yes, that's what you said. But I can't help wondering how you didn't know what you were really doing there." He had yet to uncross his arms as he glared down at Hunter.

"Uh, because I was hired for a simple security job and they didn't tell me what it really was?" Hunter asked exasperatedly.

"Come on, man," Sterling rebutted. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

Glancing around the room, which was still as brightly lit and sterile as ever, Hunter sighed ever so slightly. "You know, I'm starting to get the feeling that there was more to that job than me just being hired for security. Mind telling me what's going on?"

"Are you sure you don't already know?"

Hunter raised a hand. "Is there any way I can talk to the other guy who was here again? I'm, uh, I'm detecting a bit of hostility here," he pointed his finger down and circled it, "and, you know, it's dampening what enthusiasm I have left." He trailed off and looked up at Sterling with a 'But what can you do?' expression on his face.

"Huh." Sterling tilted his head as if in thought, then leveled his gaze back at Hunter. He moved forward and rested his hands on the table as he leaned in with a threatening air. "You know, Mr. Hunter, it would behoove you to cooperate. Just tell me who your contact is to sell the goods, and things might go a lot better for you."

 _'Nice try, mate,'_ Hunter thought. _'But intimidation never worked on Lance Hunter.'_ It probably wasn't a good idea to voice that thought to Sterling. The man would see it as a threat to the macho masculine thing he had going on. So he settled for shrugging nonchalantly and shifted into what was the least uncomfortable of the possible positions on the chair and sighed. "Yeah, well, I'd like to help you, bud. Really I would. Except, well, I don't know what you're talking about. I got hired to do a job, I showed up and did it, only to find myself arrested before I could complete it."

Sterling sat back in his own chair and crossed his arms as Hunter continued.

"Now look, it's quite obvious that there was some illegal activity going on, for which I apologize." He spread his hands and continued, "But I had no idea any of that was going on. It was just another security gig."

Sterling was about to reply when the door swung open and another man poked his head in the room. Hunter recognized him as Ford, the investigator who had questioned him earlier that night. Ford took in the room and its two occupants, then returned his gaze to where Hunter slouched in his chair.

"Welcome back, Mr. Ford. What's new?" Hunter asked with a cheeky grin.

It seemed as if Ford was holding back a heavy sigh, but his look of frustration appeared to be directed more towards Sterling than their suspect.

"You know, it seems like there are some issues you need to work out," Hunter spoke up. "If you want, I can just step out and you two can go at it."

Ford pulled his gaze back to Hunter. "Mr. Hunter, things have taken a turn, and we no longer need you here. You are cleared to go."

"Oh?" Hunter was surprised to actually be done, but he wasn't about to argue with this sudden turn of fate. "Well, then, thank you very much for the hospitality, boys." He offered a nod and wasted no time heading for the door. Unfortunately, his exit was less smooth than he would have liked as the numbness from sitting on the chair so long stilted his long strides, but he managed not to lose too much of his dignity along the way.

Ford nodded to a young woman waiting just beyond the doorway. "Ms. Wilkins will take care of the rest of the details for you. Thank you for your time."

Hunter couldn't get out of there fast enough, although part of him wanted to wait to see what was about to go on between the two investigators. It wasn't a big enough part that it interfered with his exit.

Now if only he could find out about his paycheck… It was highly probable all of this mess meant he wouldn't get the fee he'd been promised, but it wouldn't hurt to ask… right?


	2. The What Happens in Vegas Job

_A/N: All characters within belong to their respective creators (except for the random original characters that I invented). No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from anything you read here._

 _Written for domina_tempore and b_ _etaed by the awesome DQ!_

* * *

 **The time Lance Hunter learned that getting involved can be dangerous to one's health**

* * *

"Ah, Vegas." Hunter grinned to himself as he stepped out of the hotel into the busy, over-lit bustle of the evening. The sun had set, but the party was just getting started - at least in Hunter's case. He had plenty of cash and no real plans on what to do with it; he figured he would just go with the flow, maybe find a pretty face or two to keep him company throughout the night. After all, he was here to party, and so that was what he was going to do. He strolled down the sidewalk, taking in the garish billboards and bright lights that advertised almost anything he could possibly want. There were so many pedestrians crowding the sidewalks, amidst all of the street performers and vendors that Hunter found it very easy to blend in. This place would be the perfect place to run a job; he could think of only a few other places where it would be so simple to follow someone or evade notice himself.

There were plenty of alleyways along his route, and he couldn't help but notice their dimness as opposed to the main street. He supposed this was due to the fact that the surrounding buildings were so tall that they managed to block out most of the city's lights from reaching very far inside. Each of them were occupied, some by tourists looking for a place to continue their parties, homeless citizens, or workers taking a smoke break. There was also a chance that some of them were companions for hire, judging from their appearance and demeanor, but Hunter was not about to judge. He grinned to himself as he thought of how one of the deserted alleys would make a great place to pull someone aside; although there were many pedestrians passing by, no one besides Hunter seemed to be paying any attention to what was happening anywhere around them. _'That's what makes them such good targets for pickpockets,'_ Hunter thought with a shake of his head.

However, as he passed one alley in particular, something made him pause and take a closer look. He did a double-take and moved closer to listen in, hoping his imagination was just running away with him. There was a part of his brain that argued he should just continue on his way and enjoy his night like he had planned, but the part that wanted to get a handle on the situation won out and he edged forward until he was right at the entrance to the alley.

There was a group of three men with their backs to the street. One was shorter and stockier than the others, but they all looked like they had quite a bit of muscle on them. They were dressed well in suits, but their wardrobes were in no way tailored - probably wanting to look like they belonged to a better crowd than they actually did. All three had threatening postures, and their attentions were directed at something - or someone - beyond them and out of sight to Hunter. He almost walked away right then and there, but then the tallest of the three spoke up.

"You're going to live just long enough to regret what you did in there," the man growled, and the sound of a fist smacking flesh reached Hunter's ears, along with a pained grunt.

Hunter sighed. _'I'm going to regret this,'_ he thought, but he spoke up anyway. "Hey, boys, what's up?"

As one, they whirled to face him. It was as if he had stepped into some sort of comedy routine or movie; the looks on the men's faces would have been humorous if, you know, they weren't aimed at _him_.

"What is it to you?" the short one snarled. His voice was hoarse and raspy, as if he had been punched in the throat once too many times in the course of his lifetime. He put a fist threateningly in the palm of his other hand and massaged his knuckles.

Hunter shrugged. "Well, I just was thinking this looked like a party just like every other alley here seems to have going on. You boys looked like you might need some company."

"Well we do not." The short man was talking again. Apparently his friends were happy to let him do the talking for all three of them, for they just nodded in agreement. "So I would suggest you should leave."

Just then, from beyond the trio, came another voice. "Aw, c'mon, fellas. I think a party's a great idea! I'm sure we can make up for the lack of decor…" The voice trailed off in a high pitch as the middle of the three goons turned back to give whoever was there a glare. "Or, you know, we could just go back to what we were doing before. But of course, I'm partial to the first option."

With a sigh, Hunter stepped forward. "You know, I think we can come to an understanding here. But it is a little late, so why don't we just agree to continue this in the morning, eh? We all go back to our hotels… or whatever holes in the ground we're staying in, and then we can meet up again once we've slept on it."

Their expressions told him what they thought of that idea. Hunter sighed. It looked like he'd have to do things the hard way. Thankfully he had a map of the city in his head, and he knew this alley emptied out into another street that ran on the other side of the two casinos. Or at least, he was pretty sure he was remembering correctly. Hopefully he was right.

Without any warning, he rushed forward and slipped through the space between the short spokesman and one of the other goons. He came out on the other side of them in a flash and spotted a young man lying on the concrete. Apparently the man had been sent sprawling - by the punch Hunter had heard when he arrived, judging from the swelling on the man's dark cheek - and hadn't been brave enough to get back up. The young man looked surprised to see Hunter, but there was no time for introductions. Hunter simply grabbed his hand and continued forward down the alley. The motion pulled the man to his feet and he stumbled after Hunter, finally finding his footing. When he did, he was able to keep pace with Hunter quite well. Hunter supposed that was due to his flight instincts finally kicking in.

"Hey, uh, where we goin', man?" Hunter's new friend sounded none too sure about their current direction. "Some of these alleys are dead ends, man."

Hunter didn't pause in his forward motion as he shot a quick sideways glance to his right. "Well, if I remember things correctly, this one lets out on a street on the other side. Where we go from there… well, we'll just figure that one out as we go. I'm Hunter, by the way," he offered.

"Alec Hardison," came the strained response. Apparently Hardison wasn't one for exercising much, based on the way he was already starting to perspire.

Shaking his head, Hunter looked back ahead just as they arrived at the end of the alley. He grinned widely. "Told you so." He glanced either way on the street, then back over his shoulder. The three goons were closing in on them, so Hunter quickly chose a direction and sprinted off, dragging Hardison behind him as he went.

Thankfully Hunter's experience in missions around the globe had given him plenty of experience in losing pursuers, although he generally just had to get himself out of these situations. Only once had he needed to execute an evasive escape while toting a civilian with him - except that time, the civilian had been in much better shape, they had been in Venice, and they had been able to commandeer the last boat at the dock, thus making a clean getaway. Pretty much everything was different this time around. This guy didn't look like an amateur boxer turned priest either.

Hunter took the first right, then a left, then another left, then a right, weaving in and out of the tourists on the sidewalk. The crowds both helped and hindered their escape; while it was easier to hide in a large group of people, their progress was also impeded by the sheer number of people in their way.

"So what did you do to those guys anyway?" he asked Hardison. "If I'm risking my neck for you like this, I expect it to be for something important, not like, they're your bookies or something."

"No, no, man, nothing like that," Hardison replied. "I just, uh, got the upper hand in a poker game and they got touchy about it."

Hunter took the next left turn, noting with satisfaction that the crosswalk was just signaling go up ahead. He hurried through the crosswalk with a throng of other pedestrians, then continued down the street. "Oh really? To the tune of how much, may I ask? Because that didn't look like a 'you beat us once and we suddenly hate you' confrontation. Though I suppose some people really are just sore losers," he added as an afterthought.

"Well…" Hardison trailed off.

"Well?"

"We might have been playing for a while. And it might have been more than just a few hundred dollars."

Hunter sighed deeply as he paused to look around. He risked a quick look over his shoulder and was relieved not to see their pursuers just yet. He wasn't about to assume they had completely lost the men yet; it was very possible the trio was just around the corner. Hunter glanced at the shops along the street and was happy to see a small clothing store just ahead on the other side of the street. Unfortunately they were not near a crosswalk, but he chanced it anyway. He took the most direct path he could find, ignoring the honking of car horns in favor of reaching the far curb.

"Man, this is worse than Moonview Highway," Hardison was objecting as he was pulled along behind Hunter, "'cause this is real life. Shoot, and I definitely don't bounce back like a dang Toad."

He had no idea what the other man was talking about, so Hunter just ignored him. They ducked inside the shop, and Hunter nodded a greeting at the middle-aged woman behind the counter.

The clothing shop was about the size of a small service station, with shelves along the walls stacked with hats in dozens of styles and colors. There were sunglasses, souvenir-style t-shirts and sweatshirts, and much more. Moving toward the far rack of clothes, Hunter grabbed a gray sweatshirt with the phrase 'I Luv Vegas' in large blue letters and held it up in front of Hardison.

"This looks like your size," he said. "Here, take it." He handed the item off to the other man and turned back to grab a similar black shirt in a smaller size. This one featured an image of the state of Nevada with a giant star marking the location of Las Vegas. Then he turned towards the row of baseball caps stacked on top of a nearby shelf. He grabbed the first two, which were both black with white letter 'V's, and then snagged two pairs of sunglasses. He headed for the register and dumped everything on the counter. "How much?" he asked the woman.

"Uhhh, let me see…" The woman apparently needed an extra dose or two of caffeine in her life, Hunter observed, because she couldn't have moved more slowly if she had tried. She was smacking her gum as she reached for the tag of the first shirt.

Hunter looked out the window at the front of the store, noting their pursuers were not yet in sight, but highly aware they could show up at any moment. If they were thinking clearly - which wasn't necessarily a guarantee - they would suspect a clothing store stop. And with the large windows on the shopfront, it wouldn't be hard to miss the only two customers in the store. "You know what?" He dug in his pocket and came up with a hundred dollar bill. Tossing it on the counter, he grabbed the merchandise up in his arms. "Do you have a back door around here?"

Less than three minutes later, Hunter deposited the tags from their new shirts in one of the trash cans in the alley and pulled down the brim of his cap. Next to him, Hardison was inspecting his own shirt disdainfully.

"Man, you couldn't have picked something more stylish?" he was asking.

Hunter glared at him. "We're tourists. 'Stylish' is not in our vocabulary. And where's your gratitude? I'm saving your skin, mate."

"And I appreciate that," Hardison assured him.

"Good. Let's go. And put your hat on the right way," Hunter added, looking pointedly at the cap that his charge had donned backwards. "It can't hide your face that way."

They started off again, still at a fast pace but not quite as clipped as they had been going moments before. Hunter took them through the front door of a random casino on the next two streets, exiting the side doors of the establishments and continuing on their way. They were held up for a few moments in the middle of one side road by a large crowd that had gathered around a man on the sidewalk. He was wearing a green polo shirt and his short brown hair was spiked up in a stylishly messy way.

"Street psychics," Hunter shook his head in disgust as he pushed past the crowd, eyeing the way the man was dramatically reading a woman's palm. "Con men, all of them."

"Aw, I think it's kinda fun," Hardison commented. "The psychic act thing," he amended as Hunter glanced at him. "Although conning people isn't the worst thing in the world," he added a moment later. "By the way, all this running is wearing me out. Can we stop for hamburgers or something?"

Hunter sighed. It was going to be a long night. The sooner he dropped his charge off at the hotel - which thankfully turned out not to be the same casino where Hardison had cleaned out the goons' pockets - the better. Until then, it was going to be a very long night.


	3. The Second Museum Job

_A/N: All characters within belong to their respective creators (except for the random original characters that I invented). No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from anything you read here._

 _Written for domina_tempore and betaed by the awesome DQ!_

 _EXTRA kudos to DQ this time around, because she was also tasked with making sure I kept some characters in-character who I did not know very well. :) Warehouse 13 is on Julie's show list, but I have only seen a little bit of it (and none in a long time), so I was a tiny bit stuck trying to incorporate the agents. So very big thank you to my lovely beta for her help with that!_

 _And yes, I wanted to tag the Warehouse 13 category and characters, but FF will only let me have 2 fandoms attached to a story._

* * *

 **The time Lance Hunter learned that vetting clients isn't always insurance against trouble**

* * *

 _'Another day, another dollar,'_ Hunter mused to himself as he stood surveying the outside of the museum. The last time he had done a freelance job at one of these places, he had very nearly ended up imprisoned for what would have been the rest of his youth - and well past it - and he had been slightly hesitant to accept this gig. But after researching his contact and verifying this was indeed a legit operation, he had given into the allure of the paycheck and said yes.

The large building was ornate in its architecture, and it appeared to have been built at least a century before he had even been born. It was exactly what most people would imagine when they thought of a historic art museum, or at least it was what he imagined. He had seen a clip of a movie once, when he was on a plane trip and happened to glance over at the tablet of the remarkably untalkative eight year old next to him. The kid had been watching some movie about a museum with a living dinosaur skeleton or something. There had been a monkey - that was admittedly rather cute - as well, but either way, the museum in that movie was very close to the museum that now loomed up in front of him.

And then he hurried up the steps, taking them two at a time, and pushed through the doors into the lobby. He had been instructed on where to meet his employer and provided with a badge to get him past the security checkpoint at the entrance. Holding it up so the guards could see it, he made for the far side of the huge foyer and through the arching doorway into the first exhibit room, where he was supposed to meet his contact. After being briefed on the job - which was basically to provide security for the big shindig the museum was hosting that night and make sure no one made off with any of the highly valued pieces - he was sent out to the main room to get a lay of the land before the guests arrived.

There were a number of tables set up in a large exhibition room of the museum. Sculptures sat on pedestals scattered throughout the room, and paintings hung on the walls around the perimeter. Everything looked like it was worth more than Hunter had seen in his lifetime - or ever would see, for that matter. He strolled around, familiarizing himself with everything. As long as no crazies decided to go off on everyone, this job should go fairly simply. The caterers were in full preparation mode in the kitchen, setting up trays and organizing swanky-looking hors d'oeuvres for serving. Hunter greeted everyone with a smile, studying faces as the tuxedoed waitstaff came and went.

A quick glance at his watch told him the event would be starting soon, and the early arrivals should be walking through the doors any minute. He turned around to head back for the main room, nearly colliding with a tall young woman in a waitress uniform.

"Oh, excuse me!" Hunter apologized, reaching out to help her keep her balance. "Are you all right?"

She brushed aside a strand of blonde hair that had escaped her ponytail and smiled behind her chunky black glasses. "Thanks; I'm fine," she replied briskly. "All good."

"Good." He nodded. "I'm Lance, by the way. Security." He gave her his best smile.

"Ah. Well, nice to meet you. I need to get back to work, so…" She tilted her head to indicate the trays of finger food that were starting to line up along the counter.

Hunter cleared his throat. "Right then. I guess I should get out there too."

She smiled humorlessly before turning away and busying herself at the counter. Hunter watched her for a moment, then straightened his shoulders and spun on his heel to head out to where the first guests were trickling in. With any luck, the whole night would go without a hitch.

And it did - for the first hour. The rich and famous rubbed elbows and exclaimed over the artwork on display. Hunter mainly just stood in the far corner and watched everything going on. The waitstaff made their rounds, and Hunter gladly took any food offered when they passed near his station. No one seemed up to anything suspicious, but then something caught his eye. He frowned as he focused on the woman who had attracted his attention. It wasn't because she was beautiful, or because she filled out her dark blue dress nicely - although she did both of those things quite well - but rather because she looked very familiar…

She was skillfully making her way through the crowd, and when she glanced his way, he pretended to be studying something off to the side. He kept the edge of his vision trained on her, and when she turned away again, he returned his focus to her. There was still something oddly familiar about her, even though he couldn't put his finger on it. Perhaps he had seen her at a different event before?

Then he paused as he realized he didn't remember seeing her in the attendees here before that moment. There was the chance that she had arrived late, so he brushed that concern aside and accepted a bite of some fancy appetizer from a tray that passed him as the waiter carrying it rounded the side of the room where Hunter was standing. Suddenly, he stopped chewing as a thought hit him.

He glanced around the room again, counting off the waiters and waitresses, then he brushed his hands off and headed for the kitchen. Glancing inside, he saw several more members of the waitstaff and the caterers, but the blonde he had run into earlier that night was nowhere to be found. Hunter frowned and walked back out into the main room, an idea turning over in his head. He searched the crowd of attendees milling about and spotted the woman in the blue dress across the room near a blue and red painting that looked like a five year old had finger painted. She turned to survey the room, then slipped through a doorway in the far wall.

Hunter wasted no time in following her, wishing as soon as he stepped into the crowd that he had taken the quicker route around the edges of the room. It took him several moments to weave through the crowd, but he finally made it to the doorway. On the other side was a hallway leading towards several closed off rooms. They were most likely offices for the museum staff or possibly storage closets. At first he didn't see the woman, but then a muffled _clang_ came from behind one of the closed doors. He stepped forward, moving towards the room from which the metallic noise had come. There was a series of soft _thump_ s, then silence, and Hunter quickly closed the rest of the distance and put his hand on the doorknob. Easing it open, he looked inside.

The room was devoid of any occupants, but Hunter's eye immediately caught on a bag lying next to the grate in the far wall, which covered part of the museum's air vent system. It was a simple black duffel bag, but it was oddly out of place in this utility room. Hunter made his way over to inspect the bag and happened to glance at the vent as he did so. He did a double take as he realized none of the screws were flush with the vent cover. Rather, they all protruded from the wall a good centimeter or more. With a frown, Hunter leaned forward to study it further, and that was when he heard another muffled _thump_ , this time coming from within the ventilation system.

"Oh, you're kidding me," he said aloud to no one in particular.

He quickly weighed his options, frowning as he realized just how difficult it would be to predict where the woman would come out around the museum. She could drop out anywhere and be gone with whatever item she had decided to steal - because that was most likely what anyone who went to that much trouble to get into a museum was probably after - long before he tracked down her exit point. So without wasting any further time, he pulled the grate off of the hole in the wall and placed it on the floor.

"Well, here goes nothing." Hunter took a breath, then crawled into the shaft.

It was surprisingly roomy for an air ventilation system. Much bigger than Hunter would have expected. He could crawl properly on his hands and knees, although, granted, he couldn't raise his head too high without smacking it on the metal above him. He crawled forward, trying to move gently so as not to announce his presence in the vents to the woman ahead of him. After several yards, the tunnel took a sharp right, then a left, and then he came to a crossroads. Hunter paused to listen, then headed in the direction from which the _thump_ s were coming.

He hurried as quickly as he could while still being quiet, and it was only a minute later that he caught up close enough to see the woman's shoes disappearing around a corner up ahead. When he did, he paused, realizing he hadn't worked out how he was going to question or arrest the woman while they were both inside this tunnel system. A moment later, it became a moot point, as he heard the metallic creak of another cover being swung open. Then there was the sound of something heavy dropping, accompanied by a low grunt.

This time, he moved forward more quickly than cautiously, and a moment later, he was looking out from a ledge several feet off of the ground. He had exited in another storage closet, this one dimly lit. He could just make out the woman's slim shape across the room as she reached for the door knob.

"Security!" he called, leaping out of the vent as neatly as he could manage. Somehow, he kept his footing, which allowed him to quickly take off after the woman as she yanked open the door and sprinted away. Hunter ran after her, noticing as he emerged from the closet that they were in a deserted area of the museum, their unfinished surroundings indicating they were in the new expansion that was in progress. The mystery woman was quicker on her feet than he had expected, and for a moment, he thought he had lost her. Then he rounded a corner after her and pulled up short.

The blonde woman was standing in the middle of the hallway, glancing his way with an expression that showed she was trying to figure a way out. Hunter was still interested in who she was and what she was doing at the museum, but a large portion of his curiosity was now taken up by a suited couple on the far end of the room.

He hadn't seen them before, so he knew they weren't with the caterers or security. It was possible they worked at the museum in some capacity, but their demeanors certainly seemed to indicate differently...

The woman was tall, with curly brown hair and a stern look on her face. Her arms were crossed as she looked Hunter up and down, and her expression stated quite clearly that she was not someone with whom to be trifled. A man stood next to her, also wearing a suit but somehow looking more casual than his companion. He was slightly taller than she was, with brown hair that was slightly mussed in the front. His arms were also crossed, but a slight, impish grin played at the corners of his mouth.

Hunter looked between the two, then at the mystery woman, then back at the others. "Uh, pardon me, but would someone mind telling me what's going on here?"

"Agent Myka Bering," the woman spoke up, holding up a badge. "Secret Service. This is Agent Pete Lattimer, my partner."

That was a surprise. Hunter hadn't expected that one. "I'm sorry… Secret Service?"

The man with Bering nodded, then looked at the blonde who was still standing uncertainly between the agents and Hunter. She appeared to be trying to calculate an escape. "Ma'am, we need that necklace."

"Is that what she took?" Hunter exclaimed. He raised an eyebrow. "How'd you get to it so fast? I didn't see you leave the party until when you got through the vents."

The woman grinned proudly. "That's because I'm good at what I do." Then she frowned in the agents' direction. "But who says I have to give it up?" she pouted, crossing her arms. "I stole it fair and square; they should have locked it up better."

"Yeah, sorry," Lattimer said, holding out a hand. Hunter noticed it was gloved, then his eye caught on a strange bag that seemed to be made out of foil in the man's other hand before Lattimer tucked it behind his back. "We're going to need it from you."

"Uh, you mean, _I_ 'm going to need it," Hunter corrected. He stepped forward. "I don't know what the Secret Service are doing here, but I'm working security here tonight."

The mystery woman reached into her pocket and drew out an ornate necklace. Blue, red, white, and green jewels practically dripped from the thick silver chain as she held it up. "Is this the necklace you mean?" she asked. Before any of the three had a chance to respond, she threw the piece of jewelry up in the air. She had aimed it just slightly in the agents' direction, and they immediately moved for it. Taking her chance, she slipped past them and darted down the hallway.

Hunter started after her, then paused as she hit the crash bar on the exit door. His job - or his neck, for that matter - was on the line if that necklace disappeared, and the quick situational analysis he had just run in his head told him to take care of the stolen piece of an exhibit first. It looked expensive, so he should probably secure it over anything else.

He turned back to the others just as Lattimer sealed the foil bag with a flourish. Curiously, there was an electric _zap_ ping sound and a flash of light as he did so. Hunter frowned at the bag, then he turned his frown on both of the agents.

"Would either of you mind explaining what is going on? And handing over that necklace?" He crossed his arms. "Unless you're not really Secret Service…" He trailed off, letting the accusation hang in the air.

"Oh, we're Secret Service all right," Lattimer scoffed.

Bering interrupted whatever else he was about to say. "We've cleared things with the museum already. In fact, we were on our way to collect this item from the exhibit just now." She handed him an official-looking letter. "See? Permission granted."

"Did you know it had been stolen?" Hunter asked. "Because it seemed like -"

"Everything is under control, Mr. Hunter." Bering interrupted, smiling sweetly - although Hunter was also fairly certain she could kill him without batting an eye if she wanted. "Now, don't you have a job to do? That event isn't going to secure itself."

Hunter paused, examining the letter he had been handed, and in that moment, both agents turned and headed for the exit door. He followed, but by the time he reached the door, their dark SUV was already pulling out of the lot. After a moment's pause, he shrugged and turned back into the museum. He tucked the letter into his pocket and started back towards the main room where the party would still be in full swing. If any questions were raised later, he could produce the letter. In the meantime, he made a mental note to research the Secret Service and their strange foil bags. There was apparently more to the Secret Service department than he had thought.


	4. The New York State of Lying Job

_A/N: All characters within belong to their respective creators (except for the random original characters that I invented). No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from anything you read here._

 _Written for domina_tempore._

 _Unbetaed, so all mistakes within are completely my fault._

* * *

 **The time Lance Hunter learned that even vacations need backup plans**

* * *

He couldn't believe it.

Hunter sat on a park bench, glowering at the tree across the sidewalk. A pair of squirrels ran up and down, flicking their tails and chattering, but Hunter could not have cared less about wildlife at that moment. His arms were crossed and he was slouched in his seat, the very image of a pouting five year old.

The woman had been the perfect picture of a friendly face… and a beautiful one at that. The way she had looked at him, the way she had smiled and laughed at his jokes… he really had thought they had had something special.

It had started at that bar. That stupid bar. If he had known, he would have just gone somewhere else for his drink that night. But he hadn't, and at the time, he had felt as if he'd struck it rich. She had said her name was Genevieve - but she had told him to call her Ginny, because that's what all of her friends did.

She did everything right, and now he realized that should have clued him in that not all was as it seemed to be. After all, he prided himself on being able to read people, and he usually wasn't this off about them.

Like now, if he was to guess, he would say that the young woman coming down the walk just now, trying to herd two young children with a sour look on her face, was a nanny who was not enjoying her job. The young man sitting on the bench to Hunter's right was a college student trying to make sense of his work, based on the circles under his eyes and the textbook on his lap. Then there was a frazzled businessman trying to land a deal who had been pacing in a circle a few yards away while whispering urgently into his phone, and so on.

But somehow, he had been suckered in by the woman, and it wasn't until she had disappeared with all of his money - and he hadn't come on vacation in New York City without a decent amount of spending cash - that he had even thought to run any sort of check on her. After all, why would he?

Now he knew the answer to that, and he would make sure to do so from now on, regardless of how paranoid it made him seem. Ms. Sophie Deveraux had taught him that lesson quite well.

His musings were interrupted as a man, who had been strolling along the sidewalk, paused next to Hunter's bench. "I don't mean to pry," the man said with a friendly smile, "but you look like you're having a hard day, friend."

"You don't know the half of it," Hunter replied glumly, looking up to take in the newcomer. The man was in his thirties, with dark hair and bright blue eyes that sparkled with his smile. He was dressed to the nines in a tailored suit and fedora, and Hunter's plain t-shirt seemed quite boring in comparison.

The man nodded in sympathy. "Relationship problems?" he asked, as if unsure but wanting to help if he could.

"How'd you know?" Hunter propped his elbow on his knee and rested his chin in his hand. He sighed. "Women, man. I tell ya."

Taking a seat on the bench next to Hunter, the man removed his hat and extended a hand. "I'm Nick Halden. I think I might be able to help you."


	5. The Retrieval Job

_A/N: All characters within belong to their respective creators (except for the random original characters that I invented). No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made from anything you read here._

 _Written for domina_tempore._

 _Unbetaed, so all mistakes within are completely my fault._

* * *

 **The time Lance Hunter learned that paychecks aren't always worth the headaches**

* * *

It was supposed to be a quick job. Go in, grab the statue thingie, and get out. No fuss, no mess, and certainly no fistfights along the way. Unfortunately, Hunter's life didn't always listen to his gameplans - and even seemed to conspire against him on some occasions. This was one such occasion, and the co-conspirator was currently glowering at him from across the small room.

"You have got to be kidding me," Hunter said aloud, his fists clenching reflexively at the sight of the other man.

If it was possible, the other man looked even less pleased to see Hunter. "What are you doing here?" he growled. He had also gone on the defensive; his tensed shoulders communicating that he was more than ready to take on anything or anyone who came at him. The man was all muscles and intimidation - even his shoulder-length brown hair was threatening, Hunter decided. It added to the whole lion persona the man had going on.

"I could ask you the same question," Hunter shot back. The boat rocked gently under their feet as Hunter continued, "It's been a while, Spencer."

Spencer sniffed. "Not long enough. How's Bobbi?"

"You don't get to talk about her," Hunter retorted quickly. He had been trying to calculate if he could get past the other man quickly enough to make a clean exit, but the mention of his ex-wife grabbed all of his attention.

With a shake of his head, Spencer replied, "Uh, I think so. I dated her, remember? Or did our last encounter cause memory loss?" He smirked.

"Ah, c'mon. You didn't beat me that badly," Hunter objected, spreading his arms side to side. "I thought I came out of that encounter rather well, thank you very much. I landed some pretty good shots if I recall…" He trailed off as he quirked an eyebrow at Spencer.

The other man rolled his eyes, as if he was dealing with a petulant toddler. "Sure, if that's your definition of what happened." He glanced around the room, then back at Hunter and got straight to business. "If I had to guess, we're here for the same thing."

Hunter nodded slowly. "Most likely. So should we just save ourselves the trouble and let me walk out of here with the prize?" He shrugged as he continued, "Might be your best bet, Spencer; I'd take the offer while I can."

"Huh, I was about to say the same to you," Spencer returned.

Frowning, Hunter realized that Spencer was closer to the target. It would be way too easy for the other man to simply beat him to it… This was not something he had taken into consideration when he had taken this gig. In fact, it was calling into question his whole perspective on his work lately.

The gigs he had worked over the past months had all gone quite well, and he had started feeling very good about himself. There was no pressure to show up at an office all day every day, and he still made great money, even better than when he had been employed full time. Or rather, he made great money when he had gigs. Recently, things had slowed down for no tangible reason lately, and there had been a distinct lack of income, which was starting to stretch his bank account. So when this newest job had come up, he had gladly taken it.

It was one of the shadier jobs he had carried out, to be sure, but Hunter thought it was in one of those excusable gray areas, especially considering the amount of the paycheck he had been offered. The item he had been hired to retrieve was some antique statue that had made the rounds on the black market over the years. Apparently it had been part of the Nazi treasure in the '40s, and the person who had hired Hunter was just another in the long line of collectors wanting to possess it. He knew Bobbi wouldn't have approved of his taking this job if she was still in the picture to have a say, but it was his job and his call, and he had decided to accept it. After all, he wasn't going to make a habit of working these types of retrieval jobs. One here and there wasn't going to hurt. And the money sure wouldn't hurt either.

Or at least that's what he had told himself. Now, regardless of how much he had tried to block out his thoughts of what his ex would think of what he was doing here, darned Spencer had shown up and brought it all back to mind. Speaking of Spencer, the man was still watching him from across the room, with that same ridiculous hint of a smile on his face.

"What?" Hunter muttered, pushing aside his thoughts to get back to the matter at hand.

Just then, a _thump_ came from outside, and at the same moment, the boat rocked suddenly. Someone had just climbed onto the deck from the wooden walkway that ran the length of the marina. Hunter growled under his breath. He couldn't speak for Spencer, but his own plan had been to go in and grab the statue at as late an hour as possible, when no one would be around. It was a multi-billion dollar yacht, for crying out loud. Who would expect anyone to show up at the docks at this time of the night?

But running into Spencer had thrown a wrench into Hunter's plans, and now he was faced with a lapse in his timeline that could end badly. Regardless of why this person was arriving, he or she would unlock the door and come upon the intruders - which, depending on the person's level of situational awareness and possible possession of a firearm, could end very badly.

And then, as if it couldn't get worse, there was a second _thump_ and shaking of the boat, right on the heels of the first. Hunter made the decision to cut and run. He could come back later, but that would hinge on if he could extract himself from the situation at hand first. He crept to the door closest to him and took a cautious peek out onto the deck of the ship.

There were two teenage boys standing there, whispering to each other. Thankfully their backs were turned to Hunter, and so neither caught any hint of movement at the window. Noting the high chance that any attempt on his part to sneak out from that door would potentially be foiled if either boy turned around, Hunter pulled back and turned towards the door on the far side of the cabin. He frowned to himself as he realized Spencer had already disappeared but didn't spend any time dwelling on the other man's whereabouts. Spencer could get himself shot for all that Hunter cared.

Hunter slipped towards the railing of the ship, placing his feet carefully to avoid any sounds that would give him away. Part of him wanted to stay and search for the statue; after all, he had come out to do a job and he hated to leave without doing it, especially since leaving empty-handed meant he'd have to come back later to try again, but he realized the foolishness of that plan.

He'd just have to return to _The Queen's Gambit_ when Spencer was nowhere around - and he'd have to make sure he beat the other man to it.

Hopefully that would be less impossible than it sounded.


End file.
